Because
by Anoreyniel
Summary: For the first time in a very long time, the girl in the mirror smiled at her. For the first time in a very long time, Luna smiled back. Having friends means you're never alone. Harry/Luna Draco/Hermione


_**A/N: Just for fun, a little bit of romance for Harry/Luna. I love that pairing. Also, some sprinkles of Draco/Hermione. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.**_

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_"You're the strangest person I ever met, she said and I said you too and we decided we'd know each other a long time." -Anonymous_

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**1. Because he said 'Hello'.**

She can't make any friends, except a little redhead girl who takes pity on her. So she hides in the library. She reads and she imagines she's her brave, beautiful mother, working on the next huge discovery. She's her father, before he began the _Quibbler_, revolutionizing the study of magical creatures. She reads and she watches through big eyes.

She sees him bent over tomes of magic and dark arts. They say he's a freak and the Heir of Slytherin and evil and all manner of terrible things. He has spectacles and he's not tall for his age and he's not small for his age. This makes Luna smile as she hides behind curtains of disheveled hair.

She feels so warm inside when she sees him in the library, but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't want to ruin it. She always ruins it. Whenever she opens her mouth, she brings it on herself. They call him a freak as they do her. So they should be friends. They could speak of Nargles and Thestrals and all manners of magic. They could be friends.

But she holds her tongue. She doesn't want to ruin it.

So she reads and she watches.

Every time she sees him in the library, she thinks of things to say. She moves a little closer and all manner of subjects pass through her. The delicate intricacies of life and the little curiosities she finds so enjoyable to comment on spring to mind. She remains silent because she doesn't want him to think her a freak. Besides, it's a library. You should always be silent in the library.

That's what her mother would say. She'd whisper to Luna to be silent while working, and then tickle the young girl. She'd tell her to not make a sound as she made the silliest of faces. She'd create feathers out of thin air and have them stray across Luna until the child had tears of mirth in her eyes. Luna would always break out in giggles and her mother would scold her with cookies and conjured faeries. Luna liked losing this game.

She wants to tickle him but she knows he wouldn't like this. He doesn't seem to like anyone, really. Except Hermione Granger, whose presence makes Luna cringe for some reason. Whenever she sees him talk to Hermione, she winces just a bit inside and wonders wander through her mind but she doesn't mind.

Hermione makes him smile. Luna wishes she could make him smile. He only talks to Hermione, and even then not too much. She wonders if it's her hair and for a second Luna wishes her hair wasn't the dirty blonde it was.

If it was bushy, she could show Harry and he would smile like he does. He'd smile with just one side of his mouth because that's the side that he decided to show. He'd tell her to sit down and she'd sit and they'd be friends.

But it wasn't Hermione's hair. He talked to Draco and Draco had such blonde hair. Truly, she was the best medium. Her dirty blonde hair should be perfect for him, but it wasn't. Perhaps it was the fame. Malfoy was famous so she'd feign fame if such a farce could force a smile from him.

But she _is_ famous and that's the problem. Everyone hates the _Quibbler_ or thinks her a joke. If they'd listen for just a few minutes they'd see. The creatures were real if you could just believe. The theories were magically sound.

Her mother believed. She always believed. Even though she was an Unspeakable, she believed because when you don't speak that's all you can do. Believing is just a promise with your mouth closed.

And then one day, she's in the seat next to his and her heart is beating and she wants to point out how his eyes are green like a snake and so perhaps that is why they believe he is the Heir. She wants to assure him the Wrackspurts could be making everyone fear him and he really isn't to blame. But she doesn't want to ruin it.

So she says, in a small voice, "Hello."

And he looks at her and smiles.

And he says, "Hello."

And she's frightened because she doesn't know what do. Her heart is racing, her cheeks are burning, her mind is cloudy, and she reaches for her wand to dispel the Wrackspurts. That is the only rational explanation. But this is the library, and Madam Pince shoots her a dirty look, so she leaves it where it is.

Luna sits there and reads. Harry sits there and reads. She realizes that, from a certain point of view, you could say they were reading together. For weeks afterwards, they read together. From a certain point of view, of course.

She says, "Hello."

To which he replies, "Hello."

Then they read, and he flips pages, and Luna flips through her thoughts for something to say to make him smile with just one side of his mouth like he does but she can't think of anything.

Then it gets late and she says, "Good night."

To which he replies, "Good night."

Eventually, she thinks of something to say and it is brilliant in its simplicity. That's what her mother would often say. The simplest solutions are the best. She smiles and she's thankful the mistletoe her father sent her has kept the Flibbers from disrupting her thoughts.

She says, "Hello, Harry." She says it in a voice that's not quite small and not quite tall, just like him.

He smiles with just one side of his mouth and replies, "Hello, Luna."

* * *

**2. Because he wants her there.**

When the attacks continue, Harry spends even more time in the library. He still says "Hello, Luna" but it is strained and the smile isn't with just one side of his face.

He comes in with Draco and Hermione and they speak. They carry secret conversations in voices and hushed whispers that never carry. Whenever she draws near to take her place near Harry, they stop speaking. Harry always carries on.

Draco regards her coolly. Hermione looks at her with suspicion.

Harry continues speaking as if nothing is wrong. They speak of Hagrid, Dumbledore, riddles, and diaries. They speak of the Heir and the forest and Luna speaks.

Luna speaks without thinking. "Snakes are afraid of spiders."

Harry turns to her with an encouraging look on his face. Draco looks expectant and bored at the same time. What a curiously contradictory dragon he is.

Hermione simply looks nonplussed.

"Excuse me?" She says with a raised eyebrow.

For a moment, Luna is afraid. This is how she loses friends. This is when people call her Loony and freak and turn away from her. For a moment, she contemplates fleeing. Then she sees Harry's encouraging look.

"Well…Acromantulas live in the forest. There is an entire colony. The Heir of Slytherin would naturally have a snake theme. It only makes sense, you see. Themes are important for some wizards. So…Hagrid couldn't have done anything. He brought in an Acromantula. The Heir of Slytherin would avoid Acromantulas."

"I think everyone avoids Acromantulas." Draco says with a haughty laugh. Luna hesitantly giggles because she doesn't feel like he's laughing at her.

"Acromantulas?" Harry says inquisitively.

Just as Hermione opens her mouth to launch into a no-doubt long winded explanation, Draco comes to the rescue.

"Big spiders."

"Got it."

Hermione looks put out and Draco and Harry share a look before laughing together. They try to muffle their laughs with little success and Luna begins giggling, too. She likes this. Laughing with people is nice. Laughing with friends is so much better. Harry's laugh is the best. Quieter, and more reserved than Draco's. A bit less sophisticated than Hermione's.

Hermione ceases her unwilling laughter and gives Luna a look Luna knows well.

"What is she doing here?"

"I want her here," Harry says nonchalantly. As if it is a given. Draco shrugs and returns to his readings. Unconsciously, Luna shrinks away from Hermione's withering glare and her arm comes into contact with Harry's.

The world stops.

She doesn't move and he doesn't move.

They stay like that, arms so close they could be, _should be _intertwined.

And it continues. Except, it's different. Now, Luna belongs. She says things, and Harry smiles, and Draco laughs, and Hermione looks put out. Sometimes, Hermione laughs. Sometimes, they all look confused and then Draco laughs. She likes when they laugh. They laugh with her. It's nice.

Draco greets her now, too. When they see each other in the halls, he inclines his head. He always has a slight undercurrent of haughty happiness in his voice.

He says, "Hey, Lovegood."

Luna wonders why he does not say 'Hello' or say 'Luna'. She does not know why. Harry says those things. But she still likes it. It makes her feel happy. She has two friends now, she hopes.

He says, "Hey, Lovegood."

She replies, "Hello, Draco." Sometimes, she slips and calls him Dragon. He laughs. She laughs.

Hermione does not greet her as much but that is okay. She still has two friends and it's very nice.

It stops being nice soon.

Hermione is attacked.

She's put in the Hospital Wing and Draco is angry, so he stops laughing. Draco makes Harry laugh. So Harry stops. Luna doesn't want to try. She feels like she shouldn't. She still puts her arm against his. He seems calmer when she does that, or so she tells herself.

It all comes to a head soon. Harry goes into the Chamber of Secrets. He sends Draco and Luna to tell Lockhart and Dumbledore.

Luna doesn't want to tell Lockhart.

Lockhart imprisoned innocent pixies. He's a bad man.

Draco listens to Luna. Of course he does. They are friends. That's what friends do. This situation is too serious to dawdle on warm feelings, though. So they rush to Dumbledore.

Later, Harry is in the Hospital Wing.

Of course he is.

Hermione is there as well. She is still weak but the Mandrake Potion worked wonderfully. Someone, most likely Draco, has pushed her and Harry's beds together. Draco lounges like the princely dragon he is, splayed across both beds. Luna feels uncertain of what to do for a moment. Then she sees the way Harry's face lightens when he sees her.

Hopefully, it's not just Nargles.

She hopes, in her heart of hearts, he is just that happy to see her.

She sits cross legged on the beds and they share candy and stories. All she can think as she sits between them…

_Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. _

Eventually, they have to leave. They stall as long as possible though.

Hermione scolds Draco for his inappropriate, insulting jokes. At various points, she has to stifle her own laughter. She alternates between fretting over Harry and rebuking him for laughing at Draco's jokes or making his own sarcastic comments.

Draco lounges, as he is wont to do. He pokes and prods Hermione until she squirms and scolds him, then he feigns innocence. He debates Luna on magical creatures and theory while Hermione constantly harps on the falsity of it all.

Harry plays peacemaker, while he adds his own sarcastic commentary.

Luna feels like a moonshade in sunlight. She tries so hard to keep up with their dynamics but she's overwhelmed by the feeling.

_She has friends! _

When she tells them of Nargles, Harry pays rapt attention. Draco snickers and pokes fun; asking questions she knows aren't serious. Hermione debates her. But…it feels…fun. They laugh. She laughs. Harry speaks up to add insight. Sometimes, Harry and Draco gang up on Hermione. They tease and tickle her until her rational debates dissolve into fits of laughter or indignation.

Other times, Harry, Luna, and Hermione fuss Draco's otherwise perfectly preened hair. The little dragon is as vain as his namesake.

Tentatively, Luna tells them more. She tells them of Blimbles and Blibbering Humdingers. She speaks of Heliopaths and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Then, it's like the dam she's constructed out of fear bursts. She speaks and she laughs and she's _weird. _She's strange and unfathomable and dreamy and her mind is not in the clouds. It has gone much, much higher.

And they _like _her.

* * *

**3. Because he made her belong.**

There are benefits to having friends like them. She doesn't see them at first. She's too caught up in the shock of it all.

It is quite nice having friends. It is also very confusing.

Hermione and Draco argue at times. Many times. Luna wonders if there are permanent Blumbersphinx plaguing them both. It would explain their hostility.

Harry always intercedes.

Harry and Draco have a constant need to outdo each other. When Harry catches a Snitch, Draco needs to catch two.

When Draco learns _Incendio_ and demonstrates near the edge of the forest, Harry feels the need to learn _Confringo. _

Luna likes it. It makes her giggle. Whenever this happens, Hermione simply shakes her head and whispers to Luna conspiratorially, "Boys!"

Luna sits up a bit straighter when this happens. She's not sure what it means, but it makes her feel more important. As if Hermione has invited her to some club only girls may attend.

She wonders if this is the kind of thing a mother teaches you. She wonders if her mother were here, would she teach her about the Secret Girls Club? But these are bad thoughts and she mustn't have them.

Of course, the bad times are right around the corner. They always are.

Except…with friends…bad times can become good times, as Luna learns.

You see, with the Heir on the loose and a strict curfew in place, everyone was too wrapped up in their fear to target Loony Lovegood anymore. However, that is over now. Now they have plenty of time to catch up on all the moments they could've spent teasing her.

They find her on her way from Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid is always kind to her. She is very fond of him. He found her alone once, walking barefoot along the outskirts of the forest with tears in her eyes.

He showed her a clearing where unicorns gather.

He tells her of all kinds of magical creatures and gives her tea and cakes. She drinks the tea and appreciates the thought behind the cakes.

She's glad he is back from Azkaban. That's a bad place. She knows it is. The shine behind his eyes is dim, but he is still Hagrid. She leaves his hut in high spirits, happy he is back and warm with tea in her belly.

Her smile quickly leaves her face.

Walking down the path from the greenhouses, Lavender Brown, Ronald Weasley, and Dean Thomas speak and laugh.

Luna isn't afraid of Dean Thomas. He is a very good artist. He never teases her, though she knows he thinks her odd.

Ronald is different. She thinks he is funny, though sometimes unkind.

Brown is very different. She is mean. She always teases her, mocks her, taunts her. She and her friends faux whisper cruel comments when they pass in the corridors. Luna suspects her of creating the Loony nickname. She can't be sure.

Luna raises her head high and marches forward. She looks much calmer than she feels. She wishes her friends were here. She always feels more confident when they are near.

They aren't.

Luna is alone.

Luna is always alone.

Because Luna is a freak. She is Loony and strange and weird.

"Hey, it's Loony!"

Lavender's shrill voice cuts through the night. Luna feels sorry for any animals she may disturb.

Lavender makes a beeline for Luna with Ron and Dean reluctantly following.

"What are you doing wondering around, Loony? See more Nowgles and Wonkysponks?"

"Come on, Lavender." Dean looks uncomfortable, shifting back and forth. "It's getting late, let's just go."

Luna silently pleads with her to listen.

Ronald looks toward the castle wistfully.

"Dean's right. Let's just go."

Lavender shakes her head like a horse flicking away flies. Luna giggles at this.

Lavender's eyes narrow.

Luna stops giggling.

"Something funny, you little freak? The Naggles get you?" Her voice is sharp and venomous.

Ron opens his mouth, no doubt to suggest going to the castle. Dinner is surely on the tables at this point.

"Nargles, actually."

"What?"

Luna takes a deep breath and continues.

"They're called Nargles, and they do not usually cause fits of laughter, though it is very possible."

Ronald rolls his eyes and speaks. "Why do you have to be so _weird, _Loony?"

"Why do you have to be so _stupid, _Weasley?"

Draco's haughty drawl cuts through the atmosphere. Luna's heart flutters and she relaxes. An easy smile graces her lips.

Her friend is here. Her _dragon _is here.

Before Ronald opens his mouth, Draco continues.

"What are you doing, Brown? Shouldn't you be slathering makeup on in a lavatory? Where's your Irish prat, Thomas?"

It's good to be friends with a dragon.

A small part of her feels a twinge of guilt when she sees the looks on the Gryffindors' faces.

It's overshadowed by her happiness at Draco's rescue.

Draco grabs her wrist and drags her towards the castle.

"Can Nargles really cause giggles?"

"In some cases, yes."

"Huh…learn something new every day."

He's not the only hero.

Draco and Harry walk with her a lot now. She likes it. She knows it's because the others tease her. Harry is her knight and Draco is the dragon. Though knights usually slay dragons. Then again, Harry could be friends with a dragon. He could be friends with anyone.

He's Luna's friend.

That's proof.

But they can't go with her everywhere. Her knights are still males, so they wait outside the lavatory.

The girls of her year are there. She doesn't like the girls of her year. The Ravenclaw girls. They steal her things and hide them. They mess up her bed and leave nasty notes in her books.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't Loony!"

Luna spins like a top and grabs the door handle.

"_Colloportus!"_

The door seals with an odd noise that reminds Luna of a Moon Frog's cry.

Luna stares at them and cocks her head.

"You should leave me alone, you know," she says dreamily. "I have a dragon and a knight."

Because she knows they are there for here, even if they aren't in here with her. She knows Draco would cut them down with his comments. His roar is much worse than theirs. She knows Harry would unlock the door, put his arm on Luna's shoulder, and lead her away.

Luna draws her wand and aims. That's what Harry taught her. Bullies don't like people who fight back.

For a moment, the girls look uneasy.

"_Auxilia accitum!"_

It's the first spell that comes to mind. It's the spell one would use when surrounded by Heliopaths with no escape.

It's supposed to summon help.

It doesn't.

Luna's wand arm begins shaking rapidly as she slowly backs away. She wishes her mother were here. Her mother would know what to do. She'd make them disappear and then she'd hold Luna. She'd tell her everything was going to be all right. She would summon dancing lights that would pulse with all manner of colors.

Luna would look at the lights with eyes full of unshed tears and try her hardest to catch them. She'd hold her mother and tell her to never go and she'd promise she wouldn't.

But she did.

One of the stall doors opens with a terrible bang and Luna's hope soars. She wonders if she managed to summon an actual Heliopath deterrent.

Even better.

It is a furious Hermione Granger.

"You foul, mean-spirited harpies!"

The girls shrink away from the righteous angel.

That's what she looks like, Luna notes.

Her robes billow behind her like black wings. She looks as if any second she could take off. Her wild hair forms a halo around her head as she whips her wand around.

"_Alohomora!"_

The door swings open. Draco and Harry rush in, flanking Luna, only to be pushed roughly aside as the harpies flee.

Draco and Harry look around, dragon and knight equally confused.

Hermione is still furious. She is an avenging angel.

"To pick on someone like that! H-how could they have the nerve?! Bullying her, locking her in a bathroom, outnumbering her!" She rants as she flies around the room, gesturing angrily. The angel turns on Harry and Draco.

"And you two! Didn't you realize something _might _have been wrong!?" Draco and Harry back away.

The dragon tries to pacify her.

"We were about to break the door down! Couldn't remember the unlocking charm, excuse me. Ten more seconds and those girls woul-."

He's interrupted by the smallest of sounds from Luna. They turn to her.

Luna stares at them, shivering and shaking. Her dragon, her knight, her angel. She doesn't know why it happens. It just does.

She starts to cry. Tears stream down her face and she's bawling.

She's not sad. She really isn't!

She's just so…

_Happy._

Harry and Draco appear properly disarmed.

Hermione rushes forward and hugs Luna, enveloping her in her soft robes.

She smells like parchment.

Her mother smelled like parchment, sometimes.

The sounds of Luna's weeping are muffled by Hermione's robes. A look of guilt crosses Hermione's face.

"Luna, I'm sorr-." She stops when Luna furiously shakes her head, still crying.

They stand there for who knows how long.

Eventually, it's over.

Tears still streaming down her face, Luna stares at them all with innocent happiness.

"Thank you."

They steer her away. It's time for dinner anyway. They laugh as the remains of her tears dissolve into hiccups. Hermione and Draco argue. Harry and Draco debate. Harry puts his arm over Luna's shoulder and she remains silent. She doesn't want to ruin it.

Hermione greets her now.

She says, "Good Morning, Luna."

Or she may say, "Good afternoon, Luna."

Sometimes she says, "Hey, Luna."

And Luna smiles and skips to her angel and replies, "Hello, Hermione."

Hermione doesn't like the girls of her year very much either. So they sit. And they talk and they gossip. Luna tells her of the creatures Hermione has never heard of, and Hermione politely listens. Occasionally, she gently admonishes her or interjects fact. That's okay. Luna doesn't mind.

Because…she has _three _friends now.

* * *

**4. Because he writes.**

Luna dreads the day when it all must come to an end. It still comes, of course. The day when her knight rides away. The day her dragon and her angel leave for the skies. She closes her eyes every morning and wills it away. She tries her best, keeping them as tightly shut as possible until her head hurts.

It still comes.

Wishing never works anymore.

She trudges down to the Great Hall with cement in her steps.

She takes her customary place at the end of the Hufflepuff table with little fanfare. They are all used to it by now. It's nice here. Draco cannot sit at the Gryffindor table without spreading his wings and causing a commotion. The Slytherins do not take kindly to Hermione in their midst. Luna prefers to sit away from her fellow Ravenclaws. So they compromise. They sit at the Hufflepuff table. Hufflepuff is a fun word.

Draco sits across from her with Hermione flanking him. They're arguing, of course. This time it has to do with the large owl perched atop Hermione's shoulder. It's a great beast with ebony feathers.

Another flies through the Great Hall and alights on Luna's shoulder. This one is a dark brown.

Luna's spirits rise ever so slightly as she begins feeding the bird of prey strips of bacon.

It must be nice to be so free.

"Hello, Luna."

Luna smiles because he's here now. If only for a moment, he's here.

Harry sits next to her and begins piling food on his plate.

"Harry!" Hermione's face is flush with anger or embarrassment, perhaps both. She looks rather like a Weasley for a moment. "Tell Draco, while I appreciate the thought, he had absolutely no right to purchase such an expensive owl for me! Or Luna! It's too much!"

Harry looks up from his inhalation of eggs, bangers, and mash.

"Draco, stop doing nice things."

"Understood."

With a huff of indignation, Hermione opens a book at a random page and begins what can only be described as 'furiously reading'.

Hermione reads. Luna stares. Draco and Harry…

Well…

This is strange.

Draco glares daggers into Harry as he eats. Luna imagines the dragon in him roaring. She imagines it challenging the knight to an end-all duel. Battle flashes through her head and she pictures the terrible battle destroying the terrain and forever altering the landscape.

Draco spears a sausage.

"Well?"

"Not now, Draco."

"Yes, now!"

He says it in a furious whisper. Hermione doesn't even pretend to keep reading. She stares at them. She flashes a confused glance at Luna. Luna tries to be helpful.

"Boys will be boys," Luna says, uneasily. She doesn't know what to make of it.

"You can't go back to those filthy Muggles!"

Hermione winces. Draco has been getting better about those kinds of comments. It was much worse first year, or so she was told. Now isn't the time to correct him. Luna is getting better at knowing what to say. She doesn't ruin things now. At least…she hopes she doesn't.

"Can't I?" Harry raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Don't get cute, damn it! I'm serious!"

Draco's voice rises to the roar of the dragon. Luna looks around. People are staring now. Hermione puts a small hand on Draco's shoulder. He relaxes. His voice softens. People turn back to their lives.

"Listen to me, Harry. For ten bloody seconds, just listen to m-"

"Would I be safer at Malfoy Manor, then? You and Daddy could teach me all about Muggle-hunting, blood purity, and we could reminisce about the time his master killed my parents."

Harry speaks softly. Harry speaks calmly. Harry speaks to kill.

It's hard to wound a dragon. Only a knight could.

"T-That's not what I meant. Forget the Manor. What about-"

"Dumbledore didn't like our vacation before. He said it was too big a risk."

"Forget that old codger. _He _left you with them, remember? He's the reason you-"

"Okay," Harry says.

"Okay?" Draco questions.

"Okay." Harry replies with a note of finality.

"Okay." Draco nods.

"Okay!" Luna chirps in.

They look at her. For a moment, the smile wavers. She wonders if she's ruined it.

Hermione stifles a giggle. Harry begins shaking with suppressed laughter. Draco smirks.

They can't help it.

They begin laughing wildly.

Luna laughs so hard, she begins hiccupping.

This just sends them further over the edge.

They look like mad hatters, of course. The Hufflepuffs move away from them. Luna watches their faces. They have those looks on their faces. She knows those looks. Harry knows those looks.

_Freaks._

_Friends._

_Freaks._

_Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends._

All too soon, it's over. Of course it has to be over. The good times always end. That's the problem with happy endings. The story always continues, and the best part is over.

They go off to pack.

They don't really, of course.

It's more of an excuse.

Harry and Draco have already packed. That's quite suspicious, at least in Luna's mind. She disregards it for now.

Boys will be boys.

They spend the last few hours roaring through the castle corridors. Ostensibly, they are looking for Luna's lost things. Professor Flitwick offers to summon them for them. He is a rather nice man. Luna likes him. He is a good Head of House.

Before her friends, before her knight and her angel and her dragon, before her happiness, he was there for her. He would find her at times and teach her little amusing charms. Spells meant to draw a smile from her pale lips.

When she was in a real state, he'd take tiny, sweet, delicious cupcakes from a tiny tin box in his desk. He'd pull them out and flick his wand. The sweets would dance and jive across the desk. He is a rather nice man.

He offers to simply summon her lost items, but Harry declines the offer. Luna would've as well, they were having much too much fun. Still, he insists, in his squeaky voice amazingly reminiscent of a Pygmy Prymp, on teaching them the spell.

Then they are off.

Harry and Draco spend their nights exploring the castle and the grounds. They know every passageway and little secret of the castle it seems. Luna has never seen this much in so little time. She's never seen as much of the castle. Awake, at least.

Luna knows where the castle whispers. She knows where it sings. She knows where the stones smile and crack and beckon you forward. She keeps this to herself. She doesn't want to break the moment. It's too soon to ruin.

Then, they're on the train.

Luna sits next to Harry, their arms touching.

"Luna?" Harry questions with just the slightest hint of bemusement. "Luna…is there a reason you're so close?"

Luna's already large eyes grow. Of course there is a reason. Why wouldn't there be a reason? There certainly should be a reason. The seat was plenty large, so there must be a reason she was so close. Her face flushes and burns. A dragon giggles and an angel smirks.

"I…with…Nargles are in the chair, Harry. It's best if we remain close. Does it bother you?"

Yes. Perfect.

It's Harry's turn to blush. Luna's eyes meet him like a challenge. Make a choice.

"N-no. Of course not."

The carriage is silent for a moment. Hermione's turning page makes just the slightest hint of a sound. Her smirk rings a much larger note.

Draco looks back and forth before he can't control himself.

"Do you two want us to leave?"

Luna and Harry look away immediately. Harry gives Draco a dirty look. It's not so powerful. It's the burning cheeks. That must be why knights wear helms. You can't slay a dragon with a blush. Luna stares straight ahead dreamily. She can still feel his eyes on hers. Her face feels as red as a Weasley. Red as a Weasley. That's a nice phrase. She makes a note to remember it.

"Oh shut up, you prat!"

"You want to have a go, Potter?"

They go back and forth. Harry swings his blade and Draco flares his wings.

Luna knows what to do here. She knows exactly what to do.

She catches Hermione's eye. Slowly, just as she practiced, Luna rolls her eyes.

"Boys will be boys."

Hermione smirks and nods.

_Yes!_

Luna's heart does tiny cartwheels in her chests. She wants to jump up and down. She wants to run barefoot through the Forbidden Forest. She wants to feel Blimberfee wings through her fingers and giggle at the sensation.

She has done it. She knows the code. She knows the secrets. She knows how to be a girl.

She wishes her mother was here. She wishes her mother could see how well she did. She'd run to her and it'd be all right and she'd tell her how she knows all about the girl's club. She can't though. She shakes her head vigorously. These are bad thoughts. Bad thoughts that she must not have.

Draco and Harry are still at it.

"…slayed the basilisk!"

"The phoenix did most of the work! Malfoys have been dueling champions for years! We were perfecting the craft before Muggles had crawled out of the mud!"

"What's that have to do with you? You can't even cast a proper Blast!"

"It's about _finesse, _Harry. Something you would know nothing about."

"I beat Voldemort, didn't I?"

"Doesn't count. You were a baby. Maybe you were such an ugly one, he committed suicide. Who knows?"

"I could kill you without a problem."

"Oh, could you now."

"Surely."

"Well…Hermione wouldn't let you."

Draco throws his arm around Hermione and pulls her close. She looks like a centaur caught in the wand light. Her eyes are almost as large as Luna's.

"She's the brightest witch of our year. She could take anything you throw." Draco sounds ever so triumphant. Hermione is apparently his saving grace as well as Luna's. She is Draco's angel as well. Hermione's blush is luminescent. Her mouth opens and closes several times but no sound comes out.

Harry isn't one to be outdone. He refuses to be outdone by Draco. He pulls Luna even closer to him.

"Well, have you seen Luna cast? Best charms work I've ever seen."

It's Luna's turn to blush. Do Nargles cause flushed cheeks? They must. Nargles and Wrackspurts spend a lot of time around Harry. Luna spends a lot of time around Harry. It's only logical. She isn't speechless quite yet, unlike Hermione. She's developing a tolerance to these moments.

"Besides, Luna's too good of a friend to let anything happen to me."

That does it. There goes her voice.

Dragon and knight duel until they realize their own positions.

Harry and Draco lock eyes. They're suddenly aware of their positions. A person looking in might even say they look quite comfortable. With an impressive speed, Draco pulls away from Hermione. A faux nonchalant stretch later and he's changing the subject. Sly Slytherin he is.

"A-anyway," he says with as much bravado as he can muster, "I expect you two to write this summer. No excuses. You both have owls now."

"Yes, yes, Draco. We promise. Right, Luna?"

"I would enjoy that."

She enjoys the thought. She loves the idea they'd consider her over the summer. They're good friends for allowing her to think so.

She returns to the Castle soon. She stands on the crest of the nearby hill and stares at it. At one time, it was a sight to behold. There was a time when the Castle, her home, was the epitome of magical architecture. Her mother taught her of its creation.

When her father and her mother first joined, they knew they would spend the rest of their lives there. At the time it was just a scattering of rocks in a backwater part of Ottery St. Catchpole. You could yell for hours and no one would hear you. Naturally, it was perfect. Her mother's proclivities required a certain degree of privacy, as did her father's eccentricities. They were truly perfect for each other.

They built it from the ground up, putting every stone, charm, and rune in place. Brilliant, it was. The Castle was gorgeous. It was their home.

It _was _their home.

It hadn't been a home for a long time.

She takes a deep breath and pushes the Castle's door open. The stench hits her first. It's the sickly sweet smell of Firewhiskey coalesced with human sweat. She shoves the door with all her might and hears the disturbed glasses shatter and break. She stands in the doorway and examines the scene before her. It's not a problem.

All things considered, it could be worse.

Firewhiskey bottles litter the floor, some smashed to pieces over plates of half-eaten food. You could see where her father had cursed the walls in drunken rages. Furniture lies in pieces across the debris, no doubt destroyed by him in a stupor or rage. Dozens of copies of the _Quibbler _are strewn about the , it truly hasn't been a home in such a long time.

She walks calmly to her room and drops her things on the floor. She feels broken glass crunch under her shoes. It's not a problem.

The picture she keeps of her and her mother is on the floor. The frame is smashed and the photo itself is covered in grubby fingerprints. It smells faintly of Firewhiskey. Luna tries to smooth it at best as possible. The little girl in the picture hides in the corner, as her mother holds her tightly. What a nice picture.

Luna descends the stairs and stares at her father.

His clothes haven't been washed in at least a few days. The half of his face she can see is badly shaven and gaunt. The other half lies in a pool of alcohol and glass. Dried blood is streaked through his hair.

"I'm… s-so sorry. Luna… Artemis. I-I'm so sorry. Please-"

His words are slow, slurred, and uneven. You can hear the inebriation in his voice. It's not a problem.

"It's okay, Daddy. I know. It's okay."

Tears streak down his dirty face. It's painful to watch.

She's only twelve yet she manages to hoist him up-more or less- and drag him to the washroom. He's lost a lot of weight. No doubt it's come from drinking his breakfast. It's not a problem.

He mumbles apologies and tears flow through half-lidded eyes.

"Really, it's fine, Daddy. It's okay."

She dumps him in the tub. There's no point in taking his clothes off. She doubts if she can take them off anyway. They cling to his body with sweat and grime.

She stares at him and turns on the cold water. Miraculously, he shows signs of actual life. He starts and jumps as if stung. The water isn't pleasant for him. He sputters and struggles before shrinking into the furthest corner away from the stream. He's still too utterly smashed to think coherently. His limbs barely work.

A small, cruel part of Luna feels a measure of enjoyment at his reaction. Immediately, guilt crushes her and she nearly buckles under the weight.

"L-Luna," he rasps. "I'm so sorry."

She knows he's crying again. The shower can't hide it.

"So am I, Daddy."

She kneels next to the tub and pulls her father closer to the icy torrent. At first, she tries pulling his clothes off. The water makes them stick to his body. She doesn't bother for long. She starts tearing the threadbare garments off of him. She flinches when she sees his body. He's a skeleton with loose skin hanging from his frame. He has a sickly pallor. Parts of it are angry and red from the relentless shower jet. Is this her father?

No.

She's an orphan, really. Her mother died. Then, her father died. His was a slow death. But…no. Oh no. These are _bad thoughts._

There's work to be done. She takes her father's wand from the pile of shredded rags. She begins using the charms she's learned to banish as much of the mess as she can. She cleans the windows and various stains in the Castle.

She wonders why she uses her father's wand. The Trace is not a problem. The Ministry expects magical parents to keep their children in line. Parents.

Her parents are dead.

She likes to pretend it's him cleaning this up. She pretends that a malicious Wrackspurt was simply torturing her. Perhaps, someone had slipped Moon Frog eggs into her tea. There had to be a reason. She'll wake up any moment now.

The cleaning is easy. Before you know it, the Castle is clean. The stench is another problem entirely.

She summons clean clothes for her father. It's easier than expected. He's apparently recycled his apparel several times.

He sits in the tub, shivering and whimpering and begging for forgiveness. Luna turns on the warm water. He flinches for a moment before relaxing. Steam fills the house. The heat just makes the stench worse. Luna leaves the door ajar and throws all of the windows wide open. She sees her father cringe away from the light. It's not a problem.

She turns off the warm water and helps him stumble into the clean clothes. He is soaking wet but it is fine. She helps him to his room and watches him collapse on the bed, snoring slightly. He mumbles incoherently but she catches tiny snatches of her or her mother's name every few minutes.

She skips to her room.

Calmly.

Tranquilly.

She's fine. It's not a problem.

It's not a problem.

"_It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem."_

She whispers it to herself as she rocks back and forth on her bed. She can't see. She can't hear. She can't blink. She can't breathe. Each word is a shard of glass in her heart.

"_It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem."_

The whole world crashes down around her. It's all her fault. It's her fault her mother is dead. It's her fault her father is dead. She's a freak. She's a weirdo. She's Loony Lovegood.

"_It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem."_

She can't breathe. She smells blood. Her fingernails dig so deeply into her palms she can feel the skin break.

"_It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem."_

She just wants to give up. She needs to give up. She wants to spread her arms and fly away. She wants to disappear into the stars and go higher and higher until she can reach her mother. She just wants her Mommy.

"_It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem. It's not a problem."_

She wants to hug her. She wants to tell her she loves her. She wants to hold her until the hole in her chest is gone and the shards of glass disappear. She doesn't want to be alone anymore. She can't be alone anymore. She can't stand it. She hates hates hates being alone.

The owl doesn't wait. It drops the letter and leaves.

Red, puffy eyes stare at the white envelope.

_**Harry Potter.**_

She clutches it close to her chest. The paper crinkles under the pressure. She breathes in the envelope and pretends she can feel him tickle her nose.

_Her knight. Harry. Harry. Her friend._

_Friend. Friend. Friend._

The shards of glass vanish. Her breaths come out in even, steady exhalations. She blinks. She holds the envelope close to her heart. The smallest of smiles crack the dried tears on her face. She closes her eyes and she drifts off to dreams of knights under starry skies.

* * *

**5. Because he trusts her.**

It's a rather short letter, really. It just barely reaches 2 paragraphs. The writing is exactly as it should be. It's sophisticated, but not overly so. Obviously written by a teenage boy, but one who's held a wand and sword in accord.

In other words, befitting a knight.

Luna reads and reads and reads. She rereads and skims and delves in. She inhales the letter and drinks from it. She loves it. He wrote. _He wrote. _

The letter doesn't say much at all about Harry. He tells her he's back with his blood relatives, who are apparently awful Muggles. It's the questions that Luna loves. He asks her all manner of things. The entire letter is really one large inquisition.

He asks Luna about her family, her likes, her dislikes, her favorite foods, and her life. He wonders what her house looks like and what her family is like. He asks her what she does over the summers and is it very fun?

She loves it. She loves every word because…he _cares._

There was a fear in her she hadn't wanted to admit. Why wouldn't he forget about her over the summer? The only reason they had become friends was because of the Heir business. Had that not occurred, he would've had better, cooler people to hang out with. He would have kicked her to the curb.

This is proof. This is undeniable evidence. He cares. He's her friend. _He cares._

At first, she takes great care in her writing. It has to be absolutely perfect. This is the first letter she's ever written to a friend. She has one now so she needs to sure it is perfect.

_Dearest Harry_

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That's a terrible way to start it. She crosses it out and retrieves a new parchment.

_Dear Harry_

No. That's not it. That's not good enough. Is that how a friend starts a letter? How…pathetic. What's wrong with her? Why can't she do this? Why is she so utterly sad?

_Harry_

So…impersonal. Uncaring. Ridiculous. She stares at the parchment, holding it tightly. It begins to wrinkle under the stress. She sees droplets of hot tears hit the letter. It takes her a moment to realize it's hers. She's breathing heavily. She doesn't know what to say. What can she say? What can she do? She's so…weird. She can't even write a letter.

Can't even…write a bloody letter.

She shoves away the discarded parchment and grabs a fresh piece. She grabs and quill and writes.

And writes.

And writes.

She doesn't think of anything. She doesn't stop to consider what she's putting in ink. She just writes. She writes of her beliefs and her loves. She tells him of all the creatures and magic she _knows _are real, even if many others do not. She writes of how Draco is so much like a dragon. He truly is. He is a kind dragon though, despite his roar and his flames. She writes of her angel, Hermione. She tells him he is her knight. She blushes profusely when she writes this, but she still writes.

She writes because she has to. She doesn't know why she has to exactly. But she still has to.

She writes until she's filled an entire roll of parchment. When that one is done, she retrieves another and continues. She writes of the Castle and her father and her mother. She tells him of her fears and her dreams and her thoughts. She writes until she feels as if her hand is one large blister.

She writes until flecks of ink hit her face and the skin of her hand takes on a blotted appearance. She writes of friendship and kindness and how he takes the shattered glass out of her heart. She writes and writes and writes.

Finally, when she can write no more, she seals the finished product in several envelopes. It won't fit in just one. It's an epic piece with a hefty weight. For a moment, she silently thanks Draco for getting such a large, strong owl. Before she loses her nerve, she tells him the destination and lets him out the window.

"Harry Potter."

The owl struggles for a moment, dipping several times in the air, before flying off in the distance.

_Then _she loses her nerve.

She panics. She wants the owl to come back. She wants to take it all back. She needs to take it all back. He'll think her a freak. He'll know she's a freak. He'll abandon her and she'll be alone all over again.

She stares at her hands. They're shaking. Calm hands are calm hearts. Hers are in turmoil. She can't calm down. She can't relax. She can't just let it go. She looks at Harry's letter. It will probably be the last correspondence they ever have.

She picks it up and immediately the shaking ceases. Luna lies on her bed with the letter held against her heart. She breathes deeply. Sometimes, that's all she can do.

She falls asleep.

She doesn't know how long she's been sleeping until she is roused by the sound of the press. Her father is hard at work again, churning out the stories and theories that have made the Lovegood family so famous.

Damn printing press.

The small evil part of her whispers to destroy it. She ignores it. She doesn't want to admit it. She still loves the _Quibbler _for one reason: reading her father's writing allows her to see glimpses of the man he once was. There was a time he'd go undercover for weeks if it meant unveiling the truth. He'd face any magical danger to expand knowledge.

Now he was just a joke.

A bad one at that.

Luna shakes her head. She has been having too many bad thoughts lately.

She rests in her bed and stares at the bare ceiling.

The broken ceiling.

The broken promise ceiling.

Her mother promised her they could paint it together. They'd create constellations and roaring waterfalls through forests of delicate pink trees. They'd have phoenixes flying with Pegasi and dragons flying through oceans of crimson waters. Mother would enchant them to be vivid and lifelike. No more now.

That's what she missed the most about her. It wasn't the memories they had. It was the memories they were supposed to have.

She falls asleep again because it's easier than staying awake. The parchment is still clutched in her hands.

Eagle owls are not known for their patience and this one was no different. He pecks Luna's head twice before dropping his parcel and taking off.

Luna rips open the envelope to find the heavy parchment inside. It was, without a doubt, the most expensive parchment available. Such a vain dragon. It brought a small smile to her face.

She devoured the contents hungrily. She had a letter from a friend. Her second one, in fact. Draco was Draco, as usual. He wrote of how good it was to be back at Malfoy Manor. He told her of house-elves and peacocks. His father was apparently teaching him quite a few new spells. Draco was glad to be away from some of the other Slytherins. Some he had no issue with. Others were problems for him, but that's all he would say. He liked Harry, Hermione, and Luna more. Much more.

He missed them, he said.

That part made Luna's heart jump. He missed her. Her friend missed her. He spoke of Hermione, too. A lot. He said he was still working on his letter to her. He even asked for Luna's help. It made Luna giggle. He claimed to be annoyed by her, yet she was the main topic of his writing. Every other sentence referenced her in some way. It was quite interesting.

At some point as Luna read, she also received correspondence from Hermione. Her letter was remarkably similar to Draco's. She was happy to be home, missed them, and was trying to write a letter to "that insufferable prat". This made Luna giggle too.

It was much easier writing to them than Harry. She wondered why that was. She set it aside in her thoughts. She would probably never be able to write to him again, anyway. Not after he received that letter.

So she writes to her dragon and her angel. It's light on the soul. She asks Hermione questions of the Muggle world. She finds it very interesting. She wishes to know all about it. She asks Draco about all the spells he was learning. What was it like at Malfoy Manor? To them both, she asked of their first year. What kind of adventures did they go on? Secretly, she wants to know more about Harry. She hoped she was subtle enough. To Hermione, she slips in what she hopes are inconspicuous questions. She's really banking on her skills of subterfuge and subtlety now. She asks what her mother is like. Did she know how to "girl talk"?

She seals the letters and sends them off with Apollo, her newly christened owl.

Time passes. Three days actually.

Her father fares much better. She knows it's a matter of pride. He's ashamed to have let Luna see his state. He's back to writing, now. He eats and promises Luna the Firewhiskey is gone. It's not, of course. It's simply hiding in the magically expanded cupboard. Luna pretends to believe him. It's not worth fighting. She knows he downs glasses at night. If it helps him sleep, it's not a problem.

Lounging in the garden, she spies a snowy owl on the horizon. Her heart rate quickens. She can feel blood roaring in her ears. For some reason, she feels warm.

Before Hedwig can even land, Luna is ripping off the letter and opening it.

It's heavy. There are several pages. Her heart soars. He's written. He's written back.

This letter is different from the first. She can tell immediately. His soul is in this one. His heart. The writing is smeared in some places where he wrote faster with emotion. In others, it is bold where anxiety made him press harder.

His heart is in this letter. He wrote it in his blood. Not literally, of course, but the thought is there. She doesn't reread this one dozens of times. She reads every word with great care. She takes it in slowly. This is Harry in her hands and she cherishes it.

He tells her of those awful Muggles and never feeling like he belongs. He tells her of Hagrid's rescue. He tells her how Draco rescued him in the summer before second year. He writes like it's his last testament. He tells her how he feels. He confides in her. He shows her who he really is. He's strange and weird. He enjoys dueling too much and is too sarcastic by half. He never feels like he belongs unless he's with them. He says he doesn't want to burden Hermione. He and Draco have an understanding. They communicate, somehow. But…he _trusts _Luna. He wants her to know. Of all people, he wants her to understand. She learns something from Harry's letters. She remembers small comments or aside glances that would seem out of place at the time from Hermione or Draco. Now she understands. Harry…is just a bit insane.

He's damaged, like her. His home life is nothing to be proud of, just like hers. But beyond that, he has strange thoughts and fantastic thoughts and ideas. They delve into subjects that would frighten off anyone who saw their letters. At one point, they spend two weeks discussing exactly how they would rob Gringotts if they had to. His involves peanut butter, the Imperius curse, and several dozen packets of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He's probably kidding. Probably. At another point, he spends an entire roll of parchment detailing exactly how he would murder Snape if he could, in vividly gruesome detail.

Harry is loony.

And she loves him for it.

Loves him?

Yes. Like..a friend. Of course. She loves him as a friend loves another. She thinks. She's never had a friend before. She's not sure how they feel for each other. She wonders if everyone is like that. Maybe everyone is just a bit insane and only their friends truly know how much. But it's not time to dwell on that.

She has a letter to write.

She was wrong before.

It's not easier to write to Draco or Hermione. Writing to Harry is like relief with every letter. Before she knows it, she's written through a roll of parchment with no end in sight.

Later, she writes to Hermione and Draco.

And that's how Luna spends her summer. She writes and she writes and she writes and she writes. Draco makes her laugh with his "evaluations" of their fellow students in Hogwarts. He also keeps Luna up to date on his studies. She doesn't know when she will use the spells he sends her, but she learns them nevertheless. She appreciates the efforts her friend makes.

With Hermione, they do not have what she understands to be conventional girl talk. Hermione tells her of the Muggle world and the amazing things they've developed. Luna tells her of the magical equivalents. Luna loves when she finds something Hermione doesn't know. It takes a turn for the inquisitive when Luna mentions practicing spells. From then on, Hermione and she constantly speak of the wizarding world and the inherent unfairness of some practices. Invariably, Draco is always mentioned.

Hermione never goes long without mentioning him, just as Draco never goes long with mentioning Hermione.

It's Harry's letters she truly looks forward to. She feels sorry for the owls. The letters are always weighty, and the responses are often just as heavy.

She remembers how she felt her first week of Hogwarts. She remembers dreading leaving her bed. She remembers trying desperately to be normal and failing every time. She can't be normal. As she writes them, she realizes…she doesn't _want _to be.

She doesn't have to be.

She has friends now. Friends who like her for who she is. And she likes them.

Because…Hermione is smart, clever, and just as socially awkward as she is. Draco is cunning, marvelously wicked, and an outcast in his own right.

Harry…is powerful, sarcastic, surprisingly mischievous, caring, and absolutely insane in the best of ways.

They are her friends. They're her dragon, and her angel, and her knight. She doesn't know what the rest of her time at Hogwarts has to offer her, but she isn't afraid anymore. She's Luna Lovegood. She's weird, odd, peculiar, strange, abnormal, and she has absolutely incredible friends who love her for it.

It's such a strange feeling.

_Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends._

She has a smile on her face, a glint in her lunar eyes, and friends.

But most of all…she has a letter to write.

_Dear Harry…_

* * *

_**A/N: So that's the end of Chapter 1 and Year 1. What did you think? Good? Bad? Wonderful? Absolutely dreadful? Any questions? I'd love to know your opinion.**_

_**This will be a 5 chapter work, with the end in Luna's Fifth Year. **_

_**I also plan on writing 3 more fics in the same continuity as this one, from Hermione, Draco, and Harry's point of view. Would that be something you would be interested in reading? I really hope so.**_


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